


A Memory In the Making

by badboy_fangirl



Category: Real Person Fiction, Vampire Diaries RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-21 03:29:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10676772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badboy_fangirl/pseuds/badboy_fangirl
Summary: Three of Ian's birthdays.





	A Memory In the Making

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: Every story I wrote about NIan was written between December 2010 and January 2014. These are old and hold no bearing on how things actually were, are, or will be. I know Ian is married now, and I am not trying to be disrespectful. For all these years, I kept these stories locked on LiveJournal and protected, and it just occurred to me that these are just stories, and these are as much characters as any of the other fanfic I've ever written. It also represents a lot of my creative time and energy and I'm proud of these stories. So I'm posting them now, with the intent that others might enjoy them.

_2009_  
  
He leaves the restaurant to have a smoke, to have a bit of a moment to himself, really, because even though he loves the people he works with, and of course, on his birthday he wants to celebrate with the best of them, it's still a Tuesday night. He worked all day, and he has to work tomorrow, and he's just plain beat. (You can tell how much of a work night it is by the fact that he's only had two drinks. If this was the weekend he'd be feeling no pain right now and sleeping it off for the next two days.) What he wants to do is go home and get some non-alcohol induced sleep, but that's not likely to happen either, because...  
  
"There you are," Meghan's voice floats up the alley behind the restaurant and he turns his head towards the sound of it.  
  
He waves his cigarette at her and says, "I needed a minute."  
  
"You can smoke inside, you know, this  _is_  Georgia."  
  
As she draws closer, he can see the distaste on her face (it's not about the smoking, though she wishes he'd quit, but he's down to a couple a day, and that's probably as good as it's ever going to get), and he's quick to correct her. "You can't smoke in a public building here, either. Quit acting like Georgia is a third-world state." Her expression quickly changes, and he can tell he's hurt her feelings.  
  
She arrived unannounced earlier that day, and though he knows he should be thrilled to see his girlfriend, instead it feels really taxing. "Sorry, Meg," he says, stretching his arm out to her, inviting her closer. "I'm sleep deprived. Bad mood, sorry." She doesn't say anything, but slips her arms around his middle section and squeezes him despite his rudeness.  
  
Her voice comes quietly to his ears, almost chagrined. "You're right, though. I'm being a bitch about Georgia. I just can't help it. I hate you being so far away from me."  
  
This is a normal (repetitive) conversation, another thing that exhausts him to even contemplate discussing again. He knows that his long-term girlfriend doesn't like their long-distance relationship, and while it isn't a perfect situation obviously, his job is in Georgia, and he loves his job, and it's going really well, so it even looks like this might be his home for longer than nine months. (And he certainly didn't expect her to give up her job in New York to come down and take care of him.)  
  
He also can't pretend to be unhappy about the success of  _The Vampire Diaries,_  and he's tired of constantly reassuring her, or dissolving into the fight that always starts with him saying in a tight voice,  _You either trust me or you don't, and that shouldn't matter if I'm across town, or across the country._  
  
Right now, he just hugs her harder and takes a final drag off his cigarette. "Why don't you go get the car?" he asks. "I'll grab our stuff, make our apologies, and we can finally have some alone time, okay?"  
  
She smiles widely and agrees, taking the car keys as he presses them into her palm. He goes back inside the restaurant and begins his goodbyes, thanking everyone for everything all over again. He means it sincerely; he loves them all, and they've made his life so much richer. That's the truth of it, the part Meghan doesn't understand. If he were to lose the job, that would suck, but in this line of work, that's the fear every damn day. If he were to lose these people? That would be a fucking tragedy.  
  
Nina follows him into the coat room with a bag full of gifts that he'd opened earlier. After he slides into his jacket, she gives him a hug. "Happy birthday, again," she says as he crushes her against him enthusiastically. Laughing, she beats his back with a fist and exclaims, "Be sure to call your mother and thank her for me. I'm glad she went through all that so I could know you."  
  
"Thanks for the cake, babe," he says as he lets her go. Somehow she'd managed to find time in her equally busy schedule to  _make_  him a cake, and it had been delicious (and  _gluten free!_  Nina had quipped). She throws her head back, a proud smile stretching her lips and he feels his watch get tangled in her hair just as she winces in pain.  
  
"Ow, ow, ow," she whimpers, and they both laugh and very carefully she turns her left shoulder into his chest so he can flip the mass of her hair (hanging in loose curls down her back thanks to an appearance by 1864 Katherine today) out of the way to untangle the strands around his wrist.  
  
"Hold still," he admonishes (to which she exclaims,  _don't hurt me!_ ) and she wraps her hands around his arm to keep him from pulling too hard. After a couple of struggling minutes, he frees her.  
  
Her fingers slide down to his wrist, and she happens to glance down as they get loose from each other. "Oh, eleven-eleven. Make a wish."  
  
"What?" he asks, his eyes falling to her face now that he's not focused on the problem. Her eyes are very brown, and very large, and very close to his lips, and he has this bizarre urge to kiss her eyelids shut.  
  
She turns his wrist so he can see the face of his watch. "It's 11:11. That's lucky. Haven't you ever heard that before?"  
  
If he were to make a wish right now, he might wish to kiss her eyelids, no shit.  
  
 _What the fuck is wrong with him?_  
  
"No...no, I haven't ever heard that."  
  
She just stares up at him, and he thinks maybe she's having a moment too, because she doesn't move away, and her cheeks pinken slightly. She clears her throat, and says, "You're welcome. For the cake." She pauses, then adds awkwardly. "Have fun with Meghan."  
  
It's really almost too small to notice, but it happens right then: he's starting to back away from her, but her eyes move upward just a little and catch his, and he feels it. A tiny moment of sadness that resonates over her good wishes. "I will," he says automatically. "See you tomorrow."  
  
He thinks twice about kissing her cheek (doesn't do it), grabs the paper bag from the floor, and hustles out of there before anyone else can slow him up. He looks back when he gets to the door, but Nina has already rejoined their friends.  
  
He's not so stupid as to play the game of  _I've never even thought of her that way_  because in reality he doesn't know how anyone ever looks at Nina and  _doesn't_  think of her that way. But he is honest with himself about one other thing that he has avoided until tonight.  
  
He's unhappy Meghan's here because he would have stayed at the restaurant until Nina's sleepy eyes forced her to call it a night. He knows he wouldn't have left a moment earlier than that, no matter how tired he is himself.  
  
As he gets into the waiting car with his girlfriend, he closes his eyes briefly.  
  
 _Eleven-eleven. Make a wish._  
  
"Ready to go?" Meghan asks, her hand squeezing his knee.  
  
He nods, and gives her a half-hearted smile.  
  
(They don't have sex when they get back to his apartment. He's just really tired, okay?)  
  
  
  
  
  
 _2010_  
  
He and Dawn (Damon and Andie) spend much of the night in the tub, and he's pruny as hell when he finally gets out. He's already had cake—he just took a giant bite out of the one they stuck in front of his face because he couldn't very well use a fork when they still hadn't filmed all of the angles and he was up to his sternum in bubble bath.  
  
Nina had been there (in charge of the cake yet again, though she'd sent it in via one of the grips), but she did come over to wipe frosting from his chin only to suck it off her fingers and look at him suggestively so that he was grateful for the cover of soapy water. (He really loves his girlfriend.)  
  
At home, there's no cake, just a well-cooked meal at a weird time of day (nine in the morning) because they're on night-shoots this week. Nina kisses his cheek after they finish their meal and slips out to take a shower while he stacks the dishes in the sink.  
  
When he goes in the bedroom, he finds a card on his pillow that reads,  _At 11:11, make a wish_  with a little smiley face inside a heart and _LOVE NINA_  in big scrawl across the bottom. He looks at the clock and knows there's no way either of them will still be awake an hour and a half from now when 11:11 will actually be arriving.  
  
He waits for her to get out of the shower and they fall into bed together. She spoons herself behind him, her breath soft and warm on his neck. "What would you wish, if we  _were_  gonna still be awake then?" she asks, stifling a yawn.  
  
"Same thing I wished last year. You know,  _you_."  
  
"Hmmm," she murmurs, sliding her hand under his t-shirt. Her nails trail through the hair around his navel, scraping gently back and forth for a minute or so, and he can feel his sleepiness starting to fade just a touch. Then her fingers ease under the waistband of his pajama bottoms, and he gasps and lifts up against her hand. (He makes it simple for her by rarely wearing underwear, both in and out of bed.) "Really?" she questions, her breath hot on his ear. "That's  _all_  you'd wish?"  
  
She strokes him expertly, and he may have turned 32 as of yesterday, but he still gets hard quicker than he can give himself credit for (it's all because of Nina, all the time). A moment ago, he thought he'd be lucky to keep his eyes open five more seconds, and now, he's breathing shallowly and his girlfriend's giving him the handjob of the year.  
  
"I never...r-really know what I— _oh god_ —want...," he gasps, and Nina licks the shell of his ear before sucking his earlobe into her mouth. Her fingers squeeze the head of his cock and she jerks her wrist so that the building moisture gives him unbelievable sensation; he groans when her teeth drag over his earlobe and then he's coming, seeing stars (and maybe dancing, singing birds, too), and Nina breathes his name in the tone he's grown to know so well over the last year. The  _I love you, you rock my world, I adore you_  note that never fails to turn him on if he's not already there. Which he's there, and done, all in the space of five minutes. (God, he loves his girlfriend.)  
  
That's his wish: her wanting him forever, them being together no matter what. Forever, always, just like this; just when he thinks he can't possibly want her more, the desire seems to grow inexplicably larger, with no ceiling to hit, no end in sight.  
  
She keeps her cheek against his as he recovers, and he can feel the smile on her face when she asks, "Too tired, huh?"  
  
He doesn't respond; instead he turns to face her, disperses with his clothes, and hers, and attempts to make her feel as good— _better_ —than she just had him.  
  
Later, he falls to sleep, his head on her chest, his lips grazing her nipple. Her hand strokes through his hair and it relaxes him until he's certain that if the whole world were to suddenly consist of only her, he'd be just fine.  
  
It's interesting the difference a year makes.  
  
  
  
  
  
 _2011_  
  
"Happy birthday," she says, a big-ass smile on her face and a delicious pastry in her hands.  
  
It's late afternoon, but they're still filming, and they aren't going to be done any time soon. Nina, having anticipated that, again managed to make a cake that he has no idea how or when she baked it, and now everyone's standing around singing to him.  
  
They eat some cake, eventually finish their scenes, and wrap just before eleven. As they're driving home, she's texting someone, chuckling to herself, and he's thinking for the five millioneth time that he's crazy about her.  
  
He's been crazy about her for far longer than he even acknowledged, but she never held it against him—how long it took him to pull his head out of his ass, how long it took for them to get to it, to embrace all the things that they are together.  
  
No, instead she's always acted as if it all happened in exactly the way it should have, as if time is not speedily passing them by, as if he didn't dwindle in a dying relationship out of some sense of misplaced loyalty that only made it more painful when he finally ended things.  
  
As they walk through the door a few minutes later, Nina gives him a nice, long kiss, a little squeeze, and a breathy  _I'm gonna take a quick shower_ , before leaving him in the living room.   
  
It's just luck that they'd be home at this time, but he checks Twitter, just to see if she remembered.  
  
(Of course she did.)


End file.
